


LOST

by TheeWrites_TF2



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alcohol, Canon-Typical Violence, Desert Island Fic, Goes as well as could be expected, Hallucinations, Hallucinogenic Fish, Humor, LOTS of Drama Queens, Mercs are stranded on an Island, Mild Blood, Mild Language, Stranded, and Lizards, some drama, spycrab
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 15:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13251564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheeWrites_TF2/pseuds/TheeWrites_TF2
Summary: Photogenic, crystal-clear waves ran over the white-gold sandy shore. The sea stretched on for miles, the sun high above illuminating the blue surface in a postcard-perfect image. The island vegetation waved in the warm breeze, the peaceful chirping of exotic birds hidden within the branches, and towards the rocky cliffs, the sounds of the waves crashing was the most chaotic part of this incredible show of nature.It would be perfect, if it wasn’t for the hysterical screaming coming from further up the beach, with a curiously strong Bostonian accent, “THIS PLACE IS GONNA FRICKIN’ KILL US!”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my 4-part January fic, and it's been an idea that I've had for quite a while: How would the Mercs fare, stranded on an island with each other?
> 
> About as well as you would think.
> 
> So, here it is! The short-awaited, January fic:
> 
> LOST
> 
> Sit back, enjoy the ride, and pray for these stranded bastards, 'cause they're in for a BUMPY RIDE.

** LOST **

**Part 1**

* * *

Photogenic, crystal-clear waves ran over a white-gold, sandy shore. The sea stretched on for miles, the sun high above illuminating the blue surface in a postcard-perfect image. The island vegetation waved in the warm breeze, the peaceful chirping of exotic birds hidden within the branches. And towards the rocky cliffs, the sounds of the waves crashing harshly against grey rocks, was the most chaotic part of this incredible show of nature.

It would be perfect, if it wasn't for the hysterical screaming coming from further up the beach, with a curiously strong Bostonian accent, " _THIS PLACE IS GONNA FRICKIN' KILL US!_ "

Engineer was debating how guilty he would feel if he was to casually knock out the panicking New-England brat, who was ranting as he paced up and down the white beach. The other mercs were scattered about the place, either watching the Bostonian boy rant and whine, looking around in awe at the probably _extremely_ deadly, yet charming scenery, or, in Sniper's case, dragging dead branches from the tree-line to make a rather sloppy S.O.S sign in the sand.

It had only been fifteen minutes, but Scout was already planning on where he wanted to be buried.

"Okay, I've SEEN 'nough survival movies to know how this all ends up!" Scout cried, pointing at the lounging group, spread out among the sand. "And that's all of us in a GRAVE! First, it'll be Demo-" Said Scotsman sat up at the mention, glaring. "Oi! Chatterboxes go first in horror movies, look it up!" Scout laughed mockingly, looking paler by the minute despite the warm sun above them. "Oh, I would love to look it up, but, see, here's the thin'..." Scout threw his arms wide, gesturing to the mass of green jungle behind them and the endless ocean that completely surrounded them. " _WE'RE ON AN ISLAND OF DEATH HERE!_ "

"If ya keep ya yappin', then we _will_ be dyin'!" Sniper snapped, pausing momentarily to wipe the sweat from his brow, glaring at the speedster. "For god's sake, shut ya hole or ya gonna call all the predators to us for a midday SNACK." Engineer sighed, stepping out from his shade. "Alright, let's not get into any more debates… Anyone see where Soldier went?"

As soon as the question left his mouth, Scout was already shaking his head, "Nope, uh uh, he's as good as DEAD, buddy. The guy may be a decent killer, but 'hats only with a launcher. He's as good as dead out here, start diggin' a _grave_!" Engineer rolled his eyes, looking in the direction the American had stormed off to. Upon awakening with the team, and the remnants of their cheap wooden boat on the shore, the man and launched straight up, covered in sand, seaweed and the jaw of a shark, concernedly _**without**_ the rest of the shark to be seen, latched onto his helmet. He announced that he would be taking his leave to ' _rebuild a NEW, STRONGER America._ ' At the time, Engie didn't take him seriously, as he was trying to salvage as much driftwood that was floating in, but by the time he turned around to berate the man…

No Soldier in sight.

Engie cupped his hands around his mouth, calling out down the direction he suspected the man had jogged off in, "JANE, GET YOUR ASS _BACK HERE!_ " He paused, listening for a familiar battle-cry. In the silence, Scout scoffed, "Told ya! He's long gone, let's get a damn funeral set up!" Demoman, getting rather tired of the boy's rants, tossed a handful of sand as he stood, ignoring the New-England protests. "Bah, shut yae hole!" Demo snapped, brushing off his thighs of the golden grains. "Imma go look for food, keep ya bitchin' on _low_ so I can concentrate."

"I'm NOT bitchin'!"

"Yae lips are movin' and yae complainin' 'bout something. We've been dyin' every-damn-day for YEARS now... _do yae hear us all whinin' 'bout it all the time?_ "

Engineer sighed, stepping between the two as the tension started to rise, "'Right, BOTH of ya need to settle on down!" He ordered, then pointed a finger at each merc to make his point across, "We. Are. Not. Gonna. Be. Fightin'. Here." The Texan made a quick scan of the mercs, thinking quickly. "Heavy, see if ya can find somethin' to make an axe, we can start a fire and Pyro," The miraculously still-suited merc perked up at it's name, "Ya gonna help boil water, understand?" Scout frowned, "Uh, problem hard-hat. Pyro plus no flame-thrower, equals _no fire._ " Engineer shook his head.

"Son, it's Pyro. She'll find a way-"

"He."

"Them."

" _It..._ "

"Shut it, tryin' to think about _ **LIVIN**_ ' here!" Engineer snapped, then pointed at Medic, "Ya go with Demo, see what kinda vegetation and plants we got 'ere." Medic grinned, a dark gleam in his eyes, and Engie quickly added, "And if ya find somethin' poisonous, _DON'T._ " The German pouted slightly, "Ack, fine! _Töte-Joy_ …" The hat-less Texan ignored the protest, pointing at Sniper, "Ya gonna-" "Go make a spear, start the hunt." Sniper interrupted gruffly, nodding into the jungle. "Listen farm-boy. Ya all need to make shelter, get water, while I go do what I know best… that's huntin', 'right?" Engie blinked at the fierce, stone look in the Australians eyes, almost daring the Texan to argue.

"Well… Okay, Sniper will go hunt."

Sniper nodded, shucking off his jacket as he trudged towards the forest. "I ain't back by sundown," He called over his shoulder as he tied the jacket around his waist. "Then somethin' big got me, and ya all doomed." There was a scoff from the resident Frenchman, who had been calmly watching the chaos from the shade. "That certainly isn't positive." Spy stated calmly, raising a brow as the Australian passed by.

"Bah, ya won' miss me if 'm gone."

" _Non_ , but your verbal sparring will indeed be missed."

Sniper's last response was a familiar flip of the middle-finger, before he fully disappeared into the green forest.

Then there was a long moment of total silence from the rag-tag team, before realization struck…

"He's gonna die."

"Yep."

"Most likely."

_"Mmph hummph hunna."_

"Une telle pitié."

"Moving ON." Engineer snapped, then he pointed at Scout. "You, go with Heavy. Help 'im get wood, _and try not to get splinters._ " He added after a moment, and the boy frowned. "Man, i've read- okay, I didn' _read_ , but I _watched_ my brotha read- anyway, point is, i've _SEEN_ someone read ' _Lord of the Flies,_ ' and that's US, I keep tellin' ya, WE. AIN'T. GONNA. MAKE. IT." The Bostonian continued to rant, until a huge shadow fell over him, and a large, calloused hand landed on his shoulder and cut the boy off. Scout slowly leaned his head back to blink wide-eyed at the irritated Russian.

Heavy glared down at the boy, who now stuttered to a stop, "Stop wailing like baby. We go cut wood. You keep mouth shut." Heavy leaned down, eyes dark. "Or I chop you down instead of tree." Scout blinked slowly, then quickly nodded. "Y-yeah okay. _Ookie-dookie_ , big guy." Heavy nodded, and with a yelp, started dragging Scout behind him towards the forest. "We will return." Heavy said with firm certainty towards Engineer, one that shouldn't be doubted, and Scout gave a sarcastic wave to the remainder of the group. "Godspeed my friends..." He called, and with a strong tug from his teammate, went yelping and tumbling into the jungle after the Russian.

"And now we're down to fi-"

"Four, I am taking my leave." Spy said calmly, giving the group a mock salute. "I wish you the best, _mon ami_. Try not to die TOO quickly." The Frenchman started to turn, but Medic piped up. "Not zhat I care either way, but vhere do YOU plan to _go_?" He raised a brow, gesturing towards the forest. "You vill _not_ find any custom designer suit-stores in there, I can promise you zhat, _freund._ " Spy raised a brow, "I can assure you, I can manage." He sighed dramatically. "It will be hard, but I believe I shall fare better than with… THIS group." Spy took a long look at the group, particularly at the Pyro who was making a sandcastle, a rather impressive one in size and scale.

"Yes, I think my chances of survival shall increase, should I splint from this pack." Spy stated dryly, turning back to Engineer for minute. "I wish you the best… or, at the very least, a swift death." The Texan frowned, "Okay, so we ain't the… ** _best_** survival group, but I don' think that splittin' up is the best option..."

"You've already lost Soldier, and I think that only increased your survival chances."

"... Point taken, but-"

"Eh, Laborer, I don't intend on dying on account of this… _team_." Spy said, offering a distasteful look. "I think I shall have a better chance if I take my leave. Farewell." Before the Texan could try to convince the man otherwise, Spy tapped his wrist, or rather his infamous watch, before blinking out of sight with the powers of invisibility and advanced technology.

"Good riddance." Medic said casually as the now-grumbling Texan stomped back over to the three remaining mercs, and Engineer frowned. "Okay… okay, we've lost Soldier… Sniper is a coin-flip, and Spy just… walked off." Engie rubbed his temples, dropping into the sand. "Dammit... _how'd_ we end up here again?"

Demoman piped up, "Someone thought it would be a good trainin' exercise to hunt a shark." Engineer closed his eyes, "So it's Soldiers fault?" "Aye." "Of course…" Engie grumbled, leaning back to lay back in the sand, the headache steadily growing. Demoman stood, brushing sand off his clothes, "Right, 'm gonna keep a look out for 'm. Doc, ya comin'?" Medic nodded, pulling off his lab-coat to roll up his sleeves.

"Ja, I am very interested in studying zhe vegetation for… _potential._ " A familiar, too-white grin appeared on the German's face, which quickly faded when Engineer piped in with a, " _Nothin' poisonous_ , doc. Respawn can't pick us up… wherever we are." Medic grumbled, "Ach, fine." A pause. "... Vhat about a _sedative-like_ substance?" Engineer tilted his head back to glare at the doctor, who then sighed mournfully. "Alright, perhaps later." He muttered, before trekking after the Scotsman.

Engie sighed and leaned back into the sand, wincing as the hot grains rubbed against his head. ' _Dammit, I want my hat…_ ' He thought, cursing the whole situation. His team scattered, no weapons, unknown territory, no sign of any way to get help or communication...And his signature, good ol' hardhat was likely drifting further out into the ocean.

"... We're _f***ed_ , aren't we?" He casually asked Pyro, who was happily decorating their little sand castle with colorful sea-shells, as well as guiding a crab or two toward the moat. Pyro only offered a mumbled response, and Engie closed his eyes, wincing as his headache came full force, as powerful as the waves crashing against this solitary, uninhabitable island… _now housing nine mercenaries._

* * *

 

_**PART 2:** _ **January 10th**

_**See you there!** _


	2. PART2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's get right on into it... Into the campfire chats, fights, crabs, bad fish and mysterious figures in the tree... What is awaiting our mercs at this time, on this lone isle?
> 
> Let's find out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOST. PART 2.

**LOST 2**

* * *

 

“...”

“... Eat it.”

“...I  _ can’t. _ ”

“Scout…”

“It’s _ LOOKIN’ _ at me, Snipes.”

“Just 'cause it has eyes, it doesn’ mean it’s  _ LOOKIN’ _ at ya.”

“It’s JUDGIN’ ME, I can SEE IT!”

“It’s a damn _fish_ , ya whinin’ bugger, ‘nd i’ll shove it down ya _damn_ _throat_ if ya don’t start munchin’ right now…!”

The others mercs, or rather who still remained in the group, watched the bickering with mild interest. The sun had set moments ago, and the sky had begun to bleed into the deep purple of night. Sniper, returning with two hand-made spears coated in fish, had tossed his valuable catches onto the roaring bonfire Pyro had amazingly created further down the beach and closer to the cliffs for shelter. Heavy and Scout had returned with a reasonable amount of wood, while Demo and Medic had reemerged from the jungle with a huge cache of wild fruits. The Scotsman had taken shelter a bit a ways away, carefully slicing and doing… something to the fruit.

The Mercs briefly considered going over to make sure Demo wasn’t poisoning their newly-found natural food source, but the arguing Australian and Bostonian was a tad more interesting.

“So, ya didn’ find Soldier stompin’ about out there?” Engie asked quickly, halting the Sniper from making good on his promise. Mundy paused, one hand still wrenching Scout’s open while preparing to shove the crispy fish down the boy’s gullet. “Nah, didn’ find nothin’.” He confirmed and Engie sighed, looking towards the jungle, purposefully ignoring the muffled, screaming protests as the fish was  unceremoniously  shoved into Scout’s mouth, muffling his screams. “Right… Then we may have a problem.”

Medic raised a brow, glancing up from his half-eaten meal. “Vhy? Surely vithout zhe Soldier, we can count on none of our supplies, erm, _mysteriously_ blowing up in a ‘ _training exercise_ ’ or vhatnot.” Heavy nodded in agreement, tossing another log onto the fire, which was impressively nearing Heavy’s exact height. “Yes, no destructive American is a good thing.” He stated, and Engie shook his head in disagreement. “I would normally agree with all of ya, but since we can’t actually see WHAT Soldier can destroy in this place…” He sighed, looking down at his half-eaten fish. “Hell, he could probably destroy half of the island, and we would have no way to stop him or knock ‘im out and regroup in time.”

Sniper nodded, picking up his new stone-bladed spear to inspect the grippings, frowning as he worried over a splinter. “Right, we need to keep an eye out, else we’ll wake up and half the bloody island is now hickory barbecue-sauce covered rubble,  _ aflame _ .” Pyro let out a gleeful sound at the last comment, and Sniper looked over at the masked pyromaniac with a frown. Pyro’s clapping slowly died off, before they turned back to the flames with a grumble. Scout gave out one last cough, beating on his chest as the slimy remains of the fish slid down his throat. “Y-yeah well...Spook is a lost cause!” 

“Da, Spy is good as dead.” Heavy agreed, “In battle he is resourceful. Here… Not so much.”

Medic looked into the dark, mist-filled jungle with a calculating frown. “Hmm… Perhaps. I believe zhat man is far too proud to come crawling back… However, I do not put it past the  _ barrette tragen ratte _ to slither in and steal zhe food to benefit his own survival.” “Yeah, imma put up a spring or two if we lose any food tonight,” Sniper stated. “Speakin’ of which, oui! Demo, the hella ya makin’ over ‘ere?!” The Scotsman ony grunted back, taking his time to stir something in a vacant coconut shell, humming lightly. 

“Demo!”

“‘m almost done,  _ can it!" _

Sniper scoffed, turning back to the fire. “I suggest we ‘ead into the thick of it ‘morrow, examine the terrain to see if we got a month, or another fortnight to live.” Scout scoffed, “Damn, that’s not very positive.” He muttered, and the Australian merely shrugged. “Eh, it’s just logical thinkin’. And i’d rather know how screwed our situation is before we plan ‘n escape.” “Bah, we don’ need tah escape!” Demo snapped, walking over while carrying several half-coconut shells. “This island ‘as more than ‘nough resources for us to survive, and not just that, but ENJOY ourselves!” Demo announced, passing out the coconut bowls before plopping down into the sand and downed his own bowl.

The group slowly frowned, one or two of them sniffing the bowl cautiously. Sniper frowned at the whitish liquid, slowly dipping a finger into the mixture to taste, and his eyes snapped wide as the taste coated his tongue and senses. “... Ya f***ing _ didn’... _ ” He snapped, slamming the bowl down and sending a razor sharp glare towards the Scotsman's direction. Demo finished his sip with a satisfied sigh and a smack of his lips, before blinking as the realization and weight of six mercs stunned, enraged and gobsmacked looks hit him at once. “... Wat?”

“Is this bloody  _ wine? _ !”

“Well, yah! Can’ have a day at the beach without some good ol’ potions!”

“From zhe fruit ve spent  _ zhree hours _ looking for?! I CARRIED MOST OF ZHAT MYSELF!”

“Oi, we’re on a damn beach! This is like, like, a  _ vacation _ for us! We can at least enjoy ourselves a wee bit before planning to leave this lovely place!”

“Lovely,  _ LOVELY _ ?! Ya know wat I had to do to GET those fish?!”

Engie and Scout watched the exchange with wide eyes, before glancing down at their coconut bowls. Heavy slowly moved out of the cross-fire range and settled down next to the Americans… and Pyro. The four quietly watched the three mercenaries squabble and argue for several minutes, before each taking a sip from their respective bowls. A small hum of approval sounded, and after a moment, the four mercs quietly clicked bowls together in celebration, before downing their own respective bowls of brew.

As the fire crackled into the open night sky and the arguing echoed around the beach, the calm jungle breeze wafted through the solitary island…

* * *

 

As the sun slowly rose and tinged the sky in radiant orange and pink hues, an ear-splitting screech cut through the air. An occurrence that was quickly becoming more and more common since the arrival of the mercenaries.

“KILL IT, FRICKIN’ KILL I- ARGHHHHH, HEEEEELP!!!!” Scout screamed, and Demo snapped up, coconut bowl thrown off his head as he sat up. “Ugh, wa-wats happenin’?” He mumbled, rubbing his temple as an almost-hangover passed over the Scot. Then he blinked the blurriness out of his eyes to zero in on the scene before him.

Clad in only boxers and his familiar dog-tags, the resident Scout was soaking wet while rushing around and screeching as he frantically brushed at something clinging to the leg of his boxers. Following directly behind him with a flaming stick was none other than Pyro, who was loudly mumbling in protest as they chased after the frantic boy. 

“o-Oi! Lad, slow down, let me help y- dammit,  _ WAKE YA ARSES UP _ !” Demoman yelled at the rest of the crew, who grumbled from their respective sleeping corners of the beach. Engineer started to sit up with a groan and creaking joints, before crashing back down onto the ground with a yell as the Bostonian tripped over the Texan, sending them both sprawling back onto the sand. Demo quickly jogged over, grabbing the boy by the arm, “Wat the bloody hell happened, why are yae wet?!” He demanded, but Scout only squeezed his eyes shut and shook from head to toe. 

“Kill it, it’s the spawn of frickin’ SATAN!  _ BURN IT _ !” He howled, and Demoman, fearful of what he was about to see, looked down to see what kind of ungodly creature had gotten a hold of the poor lad…

Two beady black eyes, six little legs and two large pinchers that clamped tightly onto Scout’s _BONK!_ decorated boxers with a vengeance, was the sight that greeted the Scotsman.

“... That's a crab.”

“Yea, now STAB IT!”

“... It’s a bloody  _ CRAB _ .”

Pyro finally caught up, breathing heavily through their mask as they reached down. With a yank, the crab came undone from Scouts undergarments, and Pyro giggled, holding the crustacean in it’s gloved hands. Engineer wheezed, sitting up, “W-what… what the _ hell  _ boy?!” He snapped, tossing sand onto the Bostonian brat. “Did ya seriously wake me up for that lil’ critter?! It’s hardly the size of my _fist_!”

“It **_ATTACKED_** me! Came flyin’ out of frickin’ no where!!!

“ _Mrph hummph humph_!”

“It is NOT cute, it’s a killer!”

_ “Mmph Mmphmph hmph!” _

“No, NO absolutely _ NOT _ ! We are not, I repeat, we are NOT KEEPIN’ THAT _KILLER CRAB...!_ ”

* * *

 

A hour later, as the Mercs began to troop through the jungle, Pyro happily carried their new sea-friend in a leftover coconut bowl filled with saltwater.

With Heavy leading the pack and Scout keeping a good distance between himself and the resident firemakers new, slightly confused pet, the group made their way cautiously through the ferns and vines of the jungle. Demo paused every so often in the back to lay down a coconut shell, “Like Grunttle and Handsy, right?” Scout had commented, causing have the team to groan or casually tell the younger man to shut up. Medic kept up front, commenting on a certain botanical find here and there, until a stern Texan voiced called for him to, “ _ No respawn here doc! _ ” And the German was forced to abandoned his findings with an irritated grumble.

At the back of the line, Sniper stumbled and caught himself on a nearby tree. Normally, this wouldn’t necessarily be concerning, as it’s natural for a being to trip over once or twice… But the fact that it was survival-savvy Sniper caused Engineer to halt and quickly backtrack. “Hey Slim, ya… are you okay?” He asked slowing down when he caught a good look at the Australians face. Sweat and panting, the man leaning against the tree was looking concerningly different from the survivalist leader Engineer had seen last night.

“‘M… ‘m  _ fine _ .” Sniper grunted, righting himself while keeping a strong grip on the tree. He avoided making direct eye contact with his teammate, glancing back at the trail they’ve made. “S-say, don’cha think we’re… a bit far now?” Engineer frowned, slowly reaching for the man before him, sending a silent prayer of thanks that Snipers kukri hadn’t washed ashore in the last day and a half of their occupation on this island.

Snipers arm shot out, and gripped the Texan’s shoulder, stopping all motion. Brown eyes with worryingly small pupils darted over the Texans face, and Sniper slowly blinked, as if processing the sight before him… Then blinked more rapidly, pulling back from the bewildered man. “Y-yeah, ‘m good just uh… Didn’t sleep last night.” He said lamely, bringing a hand up to wipe away the sweat, while the Engineer crossed his arms. “Didn’t sleep? That it?” He said slowly, chopping out each syllable as he ran a gaze over the Australian.

A cough or two, sure. Maybe caught the flu once, but Engie was struggling to think of a time he’d seen this particular teammate look so out of sorts. And the Devil only knows how many sleepless nights each of them experienced… But NONE of those nights produced such a sorry-excuse for a mercenary, like the one standing before him. Engineer had the inexplicable urge to get this man a pillow, a fuzzy blankie and a good cup of soup, had he only had all those resources available.

“... May have eaten a… a bad fish last night, too.” Sniper said calmly, then offered his fellow mercenary a shaky, hopefully reassuring smile. “‘M gonna be fine, ‘right? Just give me a moment ta… catch my breath.” Engie stared at his teammate with narrowed eyes for a long moment. “... Alright-y, then. Don’ hesitate to call for a stop, we ain’t a senseless cattle herd.” With only last glance over at the Australian, Engineer quietly picked his way back toward the group, looking over his shoulder as he went.

“...dammit.” Sniper grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut as he breathed through his teeth. Even as he cooked the damn thing, he  _ knew _ that one pesky fish was gonna be trouble. Yet, with his gut screaming at him to stop, he had still eaten the damn thing in three bites… And proceeded to lay restless, tired, and uncontrollably shaking the whole night, along with… the _ other  _ symptom. At the thought, the Australian cursed again and cracked open an eye to glance at his hand…

Childishly bright colors and spots danced across his vision, and the jungle floor was streaked with an array of colors that didn’t contain an ounce of natural, forest-like hues. It took several blinks for the dreaded rainbow of spots to fade, and for the Sniper to clearly see the browns and greens of the jungle around him.

“C’mon Mundy… Pull it together.” He grumbled, standing straight and lightly smacking his cheek, as if to smack those stupid lights out of his steadily clouding mind. “No freaky mind tricks and games is gonna knock ya down… beat the hallucinogenic fish,  _ beat it _ .” He snarled, then paused as he heard a Bostonian accent cry from up ahead.

“Yo, Longshot! Ya comin’ or w- _ keep that goddamn crab  _ **_away_ ** _ from me, Pyro! _ ” A responding mumble sounded, quickly followed by another girlish shriek from the young man. Sniper chuckled quietly, stumbling away from his tree as he made his way through the dense greenery, and back to where he was needed most. “Yea’, ‘m comin’!” As he made his way deeper through the jungle, the early day mist of the dense forest seemed to start closing in on the mercenaries… And, had one been paying attention, they would have been aware of the alert and calculating eyes that watched them trek through the, previously unoccupied jungle...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming soon:
> 
> LOST. PART 3. January 18th.
> 
> See you then...

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Team Fortress 2 *coughYetHopefullyMaybecough*
> 
> PART 2: January 10th
> 
> See you there!


End file.
